


Hagrid's Wand

by ptolemyandtime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Post-Canon, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 18:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11834751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptolemyandtime/pseuds/ptolemyandtime
Summary: It's not like Harry Potter to willingly give information about his life to the Ministry. Or at least, that's what Kingsley Shacklebolt was prepared to face when Harry's post-war interview request finally went out.





	Hagrid's Wand

When the dust of the war had settled--something that came, not when the battle ceased, but when the dirt at the graves of the fallen had become rooted by sprouting flowers--Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, made a decision.

It was time--time for the trials to begin. But of course, there could be no trials without interviewing witnesses and suspects, without the collection of evidence, without the roundup of the accused. There was so much to account for, so much that the Ministry needed to atone for. Sometimes he hardly knew where to start.

Well.

Of course, he _knew_ where to start, but he didn't always feel he had a right to start there.

Harry Potter.

That boy--no, man--had been through so much. How could he ask this of him? But he supposed, that was the point. If he was to properly bring justice, he had to know everything, or at least whatever piece of everything that Harry would give him.

Kingsley had nothing but respect for the man and was certain that this would not be welcomed by Harry, but he was the only one who could ask this of him. Harry'd never listen to a summons by the Wizengamot, but he would listen to a friend and an Order member. And loathe as he was to admit it, he knew that Harry wanted to support his new role as Minister for Magic.

He hated this. Using his connection to Harry like this.

But--and not for the last time--he did.

 

* * *

 

The letter was sent out and whizzed down to the training center. Ten minutes later, Harry's reply arrived. Not expecting this, and at the very least expecting the answer to be something to the tune of "Fuck off, Kingsley," the Minister was shocked after reading Harry's response.

 

> Took you long enough. When shall we start?

Kingsley wasn't prepared. Sure, he'd begun thinking up a few stray questions. But he thought he'd have at least a week to get ready.

He was, however, smart enough to realize that he should take advantage of Harry's cooperation for as long as he had it.

And so it was that not sixteen minutes later, Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World, strolled into Kingsley's office looking calm and self-assured.

"Thank you for coming, Harry." (He wanted to add 'I really appreciate it' but knew Harry wouldn't like it.)

"We were doing water drills so let's call it even." At the wince on Kingsley's face, Harry smirked. It was nice to talk to an auror who'd been through it, an auror who wasn't currently flinging him into the simulations of different bodies of water to see whether he could disapparate without getting wet.

"There's so much I need to ask you..." Kingsley paused.

"And you hardly know where to start," Harry offered. "Well, if that's the case, then let's start with correcting the record."

Kingsley was puzzled. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised Harry had a starting point given how uncharacteristic his reaction to the summons had been, but he was. Kingsley quickly reconfigured his face to one of impressed thoughtfulness. "Yes. Let's. But before we begin, do you consent to the recording of this interview?"

"Yes. However, I would like the interview to be sealed unless it will directly help a victim or incriminate a perpetrator."

With only a moment of hesitation, Kingsley said, "That can be arranged."

"So, I will not always be clear about how I obtained the information. You may ask, and I may answer--or not. I have my concerns and my precautions so I’m going to say them bluntly. I am divulging information so we can restore justice in our world. However, I made a promise to Dumbledore before his death that I very much would like to keep. And I also refuse to disseminate how exactly Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort. I do not want any copycats. Those as I’m sure you’ve already gathered are goals that are at odds with each other. My main purpose, though, is...that I want as much justice for those--" his voice cracked and Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose--"we lost, and moreover, I want to restore the names of those who were wrongly blamed for the crimes of Tom Riddle."

Kingsley nodded and silently performed the recording charm.

"Let us begin then with Rubeus Hagrid..."

 

* * *

 

 The castle was still discolored. There had been so much relief, so much euphoria that the rebuilding effort itself had not taken long. Those who had fought needed to relieve their trauma with labor--often manually. But most of the effort came from those who like Percy Weasley had caught on too late, but who unlike Percy Weasley had not been able to fight. Or from the most vulnerable who had known and listened to the warnings of Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter and had hidden in mountain passes or African cities--those who still wondered if there was more they could have done.

The castle itself was rebuilt. Some clever (or paranoid) headmistress centuries ago had charmed the castle to reassemble itself should the castle fall. The trouble was those areas that had been blasted into nothingness and those areas that had been scarred by dark magic. However, it wasn't for nothing that Hogwarts was the best school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Her former pupils knew a thing or two about counter curses, cleansing spells, and were imaginative enough to think up ways to incorporate the damage into the reconstructed castle and grounds.

And it said something about the affection that Rubeus Hagrid inspired that his scorched hut had been completely rebuilt just three days after the Battle.

Hagrid found himself crying a lot these days. For the friends and students he'd lost. For the creatures killed. For those on the mend. For the laborers piecing Hogwarts back together. For having won. For Harry--dead in his arms--being alive. For feeling safe. For being home.

Hagrid took the title of groundskeeper seriously, and never had the grounds needed more keeping than after the Battle. Most days--even now that two months had passed--there was still so much to do to restore the grounds before September 1st. The flood of volunteers was now a manageable group that rotated and came in shifts. Professor McGonagall had realized early on that she needed to temper the desire of the do-gooders to help with the realities that rebuilding necessitated. Besides the careful thought and precision that went into the effort, Hogwarts' recent siege had left the castle more vulnerable than she liked or wanted to advertise.

And so it was on a July morning when Hagrid was monitoring a team of fifteen who'd been tasked with looking for the peculiar in different sections of the grounds that Hagrid found himself with an owl on his shoulder. An owl bearing a letter.

"Well, hello there, pretty thing." The owl puffed itself up. "Big, _strong_ thing," Hagrid chuckled. The owl allowed Hagrid to scratch under his neck. And Hagrid, seeing that the volunteers were doing well on their own, made his way to his hut.

“Let’s get you a treat.” It was obvious as soon as he’d handed one over that the owl had been tasked with returning Hagrid’s reply. Sitting down Hagrid opened the letter as carefully as he could.

 

> Hagrid,
> 
> It’s been too long. Fancy lunch at The Leaky Cauldron today? If yes, I’ll see you there at 1.
> 
> -Harry

Hagrid found, as he’d so often found in the last two months, his vision blurring and it took him a beat to realize why, and then another to find his handkerchief so he could blot away his tears.

 

> Harry,
> 
> That’d be right nice
> 
> -Hagrid

After Hagrid had recovered a bit and the owl had flown off, he left his home and was proud to see that his charges were still hard at work. He made his way up to the castle and was headed towards Dumbledore’s--no Professor McGonagall’s--office when he had to stop short to prevent bowling her over.

“Hello, Hagrid.”

“Hullo, Professor.”

“Call me, Minerva, it’s long overdue.”

“Alright, Professor--er, Minerva. Just wanted to let you know the crew’s doing a thumpin’ good job. And, er, I’ll be popping out for lunch in London at 1. I was wonderin’ if I could use your Floo. Mine’s still not quite right, see…”

“Of course, Hagrid. And before you say another word, take as long as you need. You’re long overdue for a break, and if you’re back here before 5, I’ll force you to take a vacation.”

Blushing, Hagrid smiled. “S’alright Profess--er Minerva.” He quickly corrected seeing the look in her eyes. “Thanks. It’s right good of you.”

Knowing that teasing or scolding Hagrid about his formality with her would only lead to his embarrassment Minerva said simply, “The password is 'wit beyond measure.'" And she headed off leaving Hagrid to collect himself.

 

* * *

 

At 12:59, Hagrid stepped into the Headmistress’ fireplace and said, “The Leaky Cauldron.”

No one was surprised to see Hagrid at The Leaky Cauldron, but many--except those who’d seen him emerge countless times before--were a bit stunned that a man so large could have come out of the fireplace.

Hagrid had tried to make himself smart. It’d been a few weeks since he’d seen Harry, and he didn’t want to look worn down or show up with muck on his face.

Looking around, Hagrid quickly surmised that Harry wasn’t here, yet.

_Reckon he’s running late_ , Hagrid thought.

“Hiya, Tom! I’ll have a pint.”

“He’s waiting for you in the back room,” Tom said discreetly.

“Wha’?

Oh. Righ’”

Grabbing his pint Hagrid made his way to the back room.

Harry stood in greeting, and for the first time Hagrid could remember, Harry willingly initiated a hug. Hagrid hugged him back and held him longer than a standard hello.

“It’s righ’ good to see you, Harry. The clean up crew’s not as bashful _or_ as show-offy now you’ve entered training. I reckon Professor McGonagall’s glad she don’t have to monitor the well-wishers no more.”

“Glad my absence has been so helpful,” Harry cheeked.

“And” beginning to choke up, Hagrid said, "thanks for invitin’ me to lunch. Didn’t want to bother ya now you’re in the academy. Everythin’ I’ve heard it must be tirin’.”

“Hagrid, I’m going to say this until you hear it: you could never bother me. You have been with me from the very beginning, and I owe so much to you. Now, don’t look so bashful, Hagrid, because I’ve got quite a lot more to say.

I don’t know how I would’ve managed without you all these years. You’ve knocked a lot of sense into me, and…

Well, you made Hogwarts feel like home for me.

And I,

I don’t know how to…

How to properly apologize for…

Hagrid.

I’m sorry, so sorry, you carried my body at the end. If there was any way I could’ve done it...but..

Still.

Hagrid. I’m so sorry you believed me dead. I never meant to cause you-- _especially_ you--any anguish.”

“S’alright, Harry.” Hagrid’s eyes were past the point of welling up. “‘Cause you’re here.

And there’s nothing more I could want than that.”

"Thank you,” Harry said simply, allowing his sincerity, his full acceptance to come through.

“So what ya been up t’? Can’t all be lunches at The Leaky Cauldron, cannit?”

“No. Training’s keeping me busy.” A slight blush creeped across Harry’s cheeks. “And, um, so is Ginny.” Harry’s face was nearly scarlet. “I mean, I’m trying to spend as much time with her as I can before term starts.”

“Good on ya! And Ginny!” Hagrid chuckled. “I’ve been meanin’ to reach out to Olympe, meself. She’s been sendin’ me letters since the Battle, see. Haven’t quite known what to say, really…”

“You’ll figure it out. I reckon you’re best in person, though. Maybe you can meet up. Somewhere you don’t have to bribe giants, perhaps?” Harry said wiggling his eyebrows. It was fun to make Hagrid blush. “And I’ve also been spending time with Kingsley being interviewed about the war.”

“Sounds horrible, Harry. ‘M sorry.”

“Don’t be. After all these years, there’s a lot to tell, and it helps. Getting it out of my head. My sleeping's been easier.

Plus, it has other perks.”

Hagrid’s eyes lit up. He’d been worrying about his own interview and was surprised and curious about what Harry had to say.

“One of the perks is that I get to clear the names of the innocent who’ve been wrongly accused and punished for the crimes carried out by Riddle.”

“That’s great, Harry. Really good work. Just the sorta thing your mum and dad’ve done.”

“Yes. I’d like to think so. Although, it’ll be interesting to see what happens. I haven’t told the first person who’s been exonerated.”

“I reckon they’ll be thumpin’ pleased, I reckon. Yeah. Bet they’ll be,” Hagrid said taking a swig from his pint and accidentally slamming it down on the table.

“I hope so, Hagrid, because the first person is you.”

Hagrid started--confused, dumbfounded.

“But. Wha’?”

“I’m not sure Dumbledore ever told you all that happened my second year when the Chamber of Secrets was opened. Let’s just say that it was Riddle who set a basilisk on the castle and Riddle who’s responsible for the death of Myrtle. Let’s just say, I know all that. And that Kingsley believes me.”

Hagrid couldn’t see properly. He’d always known he was innocent. Had always believed Aragog, but he’d never been _completely_ sure. And Moaning Myrtle’s occasional visits hadn’t helped his confidence

“That’s good to hear, Harry. Real good to hear.” Hagrid was trying to compose himself.

Knowing that full realization hadn’t hit, yet, Harry pressed on.

“And now that your name’s been cleared, it’s high time we take you to get a wand that’s neither broken nor encased in a tattered pink umbrella.”

Just then, Tom came in with food Harry’d ordered before Hagrid’s arrival.

Too shocked to talk, Hagrid began eating the roast and potatoes in front of him. He couldn’t even see the food, but luckily it made its way safely into his mouth--or, it mostly did. A few stray forkfuls found their way back to the plate they’d just departed.

Harry watched Hagrid, more interested in his first friend than he was in the fish ‘n’ chips in front of him --delicious though they were.

Finally, Hagrid cleared his throat.

“I don’ know what to say. How to thank you. I never.”

“Hagrid. This. This is the very least I could do. You are welcome, Hagrid, but it was my pleasure, and that’s the last thanks you’ll be givin’ me.”

“But, Harry--”

“No, Hagrid. No. No more thanking. I really mean it” Brightening, Harry said, “We’ll not be spending time with that. When you’re done, we can head to Ollivander’s.”

And Hagrid beamed with a brightness Harry’d only ever witnessed when Hagrid was around dangerous creatures. Hagrid’s prediction was correct. Hagrid was quite obviously thumpin’ pleased.

Hagrid stood up with his back tall, his chest puffed up, and nearly forgot to duck when he exited the back room.

He was shining so brightly that they made it out into Diagon Alley before anyone noticed who was accompanying Hagrid.

But there was something about the purpose with which Hagrid walked that kept Harry’s usual well-wishers and admirers at bay. Harry couldn’t have been more grateful.

Hagrid stooped, entering the dusty shop that had somehow remained cobwebbed even though Harry knew perfectly well that Ollivander’s shop had been repaired and cleaned just a month and a half ago as part of the Ministry’s “Diagon Alley Revitalization” program.

“Rubeus Hagrid. I’ve been wondering when you’d be showing up. Harry mentioned, but, alas. Uncertainty remains a stable force even in these peaceful times,” said Ollivander staring off into the distance.

And then his gaze snapped to Hagrid.

“Right. Let’s look at my longest collection first.

Spruce and dragon heartstring. 21 inches.”

This abnormally large wand looked ordinary in Hagrid’s hand, but it wasn’t to be.

Four wands came and went before Hagrid felt that old tingle. Harry summoned a bottle of firewhisky he’d brought over that morning, and Hagrid did something he hadn’t done in over 50 years. He legally used a wand--and an unbroken one at that--to conjure three glasses. Hagrid made the bottle hover and begin pouring the fine liquid into their glasses.

“To Harry Potter! A true friend!”

Hagrid raised his glass and prodded Harry with his willow and unicorn hair wand--23 inches--until a blushing Harry held his glass up and they all drank.

Before he and Hagrid left, Harry told Hagrid they were headed back to The Leaky Cauldron for a proper drink. They made their way back, and Harry didn’t even mind shaking hands or waving to the admirers. Not today. _Nothing_ could ruin the joy Harry felt right now.

Harry and Hagrid made their way to the back room. But there was an odd clanking of full glasses following them thanks to the generosity of the bar’s tipsy patrons. Even with a Hagrid-sized liver, the amount of alcohol that had been lovingly pushed on them would be enough to kill them both.

Hagrid was wand-happy. There was pure joy on his face from using his wand to successfully lower all the drinks onto a large table. Harry hardly wanted to distract him from using his new wand. But he knew now was the perfect time.

“Before the celebrating begins, there’s something I need to ask.”

“Anythin.’”

“Do you want your exoneration to be public? It won’t change your status or the paperwork in the Ministry. It’s wholly up to you.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, think on it. I’ve never been a fan of the press, but I also can’t forget how good it felt back when _The Quibbler_ printed my account of Riddle’s return.”

“Alright, I’ll think about it.”

Not a moment later the door opened and a stream of Hagrid’s favorite people entered the room. Hermione and Ron. Ginny and Charlie. Luna and Neville. Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall. Kingsley and Bill. George and Molly. Arthur and Poppy Pomfrey. Former students from decades previous and old friends that Hagrid was amazed Harry’d known about--let alone found.

Hagrid looked at Harry who was beaming and seemed for the first time since Hagrid’d known him like he was really and truly okay.

Hagrid turned back to the group still entering when he realized that the room had been massively expanded while they were at Ollivander's. And the once sparse room was now covered with streamers and decorations made to look like his favorite creatures. As soon as he took in the room’s transformation, something sparkly caught his eye. He turned just in time to see Olympe enter in a silver summer dress looking as beautiful as ever.

Harry noticed that her dress glowed as brightly as Hagrid’s grin.

 

* * *

 

It was well past 5 when Hagrid accompanied Minerva back to Hogwarts. They’d both been enjoying the company they’d been in too much to get very tipsy.

They landed well upon reentering her office.

“Before you leave, Hagrid, would you please take a seat?”

Her office was full of books, but had decidedly fewer trinkets than when it had been Albus’. The round room was cozier. The armchair she expanded to accommodate Hagrid was cushioned and delightfully comfortable.

“Thank you, Hagrid--or do you prefer Rubeus?”

“Hagrid, please, Minerva.”

“Well then, I’ll cut to the chase, Hagrid. As you might’ve guessed, Harry let me in on the reason for the celebration this evening.

I must say I’m disappointed that Albus’ preference for secrecy prevented this from happening 5 years ago. Of course, this should have been rectified 55 years ago. But, regardless, _this_ is long overdue.”

“Too right you are, Minerva,” said the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. Minerva’s look clearly said “hush!” and Albus closed his lips with the universal sign of locking them up and throwing away the key.

“And Hagrid, I’d also like to issue an apology to you, personally. My knowledge of your past didn’t allow me to see you with truth or clarity. I misjudged you, and for that, I am forever sorry.”

Hagrid was silent, well out of tears by this point, and still feeling the warm glow of this afternoon’s shock.

“I would like to make it up to you, Hagrid, by offering you the rest of the Hogwarts education that was wrongly stripped from you. Private lessons if you so choose.

Although, perhaps, you don’t need them.” With a twinkle in her eye, she said, “According to Harry, you cast a nonverbal spell the night you came to fetch him 7 years ago.” Minerva’s eyes flicked to Albus’ portrait which refused to meet her gaze. Hagrid’s ears had reddened--something impossible to see owing to the overwhelming state of his hair.

“But if you’re interested, we could go about it a few ways. We could do it one on one. I could ask Filius and Pomona, perhaps Horace or any other professor whose subject you’re keen on. You could also drop into different lessons as you please. I could let you know what’s being covered in the different courses. Or any other fashion you choose.

I’m not sure if she’s told you, yet, but Hermione Granger will be returning this fall, and I’m sure she’d like to help.”

“But my classes…”

“If you are interested, we can make it work. We could have Professor Grubbly-Plank back part time or as a substitute.

Do not forget, though, Hagrid, that Hogwarts is first and foremost an institution of learning, and that you’ve been deprived a full education these many years.

All because of the doings of that evil man.

This is your right and it is my privilege.”

“I’ll think on it,” he said not liking the idea of Professor Grubbly-Plank returning. “Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

Thank you, Professor M--Minerva.”

“No, Hagrid. Thank you for your loyalty to this school. It is, I think, unparalleled.”

Hagrid didn’t know what to say to such a compliment so he got up, knocking down and then righting his chair, and finally said, “Goodnight, Minerva.”

She watched him leave knowing that this would not be her last pupil with unusual needs as the aftermath of the war abated and many who’d had holes or gaps in their education sought to fill them in.

Hagrid, however, was thinking. Not about lessons, but about what a nice sight Olympe had been. How he’d like to conjure a bouquet or two or a hundred for her. How perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to take Professor McGonagall up on her offer of a vacation.

No. It wouldn’t be a bad idea at all.


End file.
